Page 33 of The Scent of Intuition
“Hmpf! He told me to call him ‘Stan’. It’s part of his name. Anyhow, he’s my chance to leave.”
“Go where?”
“First down the altar and then to his castle. Far away.”
“Where nobody knows about your flare-ups?”
“Yes. And where the Ton isn’t so mean to you and there’s no threat to my reputation all the time.”
“So a love potion is supposed to make him want to take you to his magic castle like in a fairy tale?” Pippa sounded skeptical.
“I don’t know about magic, but I hear it’s a large medieval construction with turrets and much green landscape surrounding it. You can see the mountains from Bran Castle.”
“Aha, well then, it’s a must that you devote your life to living there. Especially since there are no castles and green landscapes here in England.”
Bea’s eyes snapped to Pippa. She was making fun of her now. At least it distracted her so Bea wouldn’t have to tell her what else had happened.
That’s what Bea got for playing by the Ton’s rules, seeking the highest-ranking bachelor she could find before her parents returned. She was beginning to hate the rules and the expectations. Bristling against the requirements of her station, Bea had finally had enough. This ploy had to work; she must be on a ship in the Mediterranean Sea before her parents returned.
Only… she’d received a bone-shattering kiss from the apothecary.
If she had any sense at all, she’d distance herself from him, or else he’d turn her resolve to a powder finer than his medicines.
Her cheeks tingled and a flash of heat flushed over them. A burning itch sparkled across her face, making her want to rake her fingernails over her skin.The beast.
Bea touched her face, and it was hot.
Oh no, not again!
Chapter Thirteen
Alfie hated himselffor knocking the wind out of Bea and slumped onto his chair behind the counter, the only place where he felt in command and control. After she’d awakened, he’d started working in his apothecary and by the time Pippa took her home, Alfie had already polished his beakers, recalibrated the brass scale, cleaned the window, and sorted the tea sachets. Again. But there was no amount of tedious work that could take his mind off the kiss.
It was a kiss of a lifetime with the woman of the century.
“Alfie, someone is waiting for you.” Wendy burst into the apothecary shop and placed a stack of crisp white towels on the kitchen table. She leaned on her elbows and waited.
“Yes, Wendy?” Alfie knew that look. He’d known it since she was a little girl. It always worked.
“Why is he here?” She opened her eyes wide and gestured to the kitchen door.
If he engaged, she’d trap him. He knew it. And yet, Alfie had to ask. “Who is waiting for me?”
“Prince Ferdinand Constantin Maximilian Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen.”
“What?” Alfie shot up from his chair and let it fall back with a screech. He stormed to the door and found a tall, dark-haired man in a very expensive-looking coat tapping on the wall in the waiting room as if he owned it.
Alfie stopped in the doorway, suspicious of the prince’s intentions. He couldn’t possibly have already found out that Alfie had kissed the woman destined for him, or could he?
Wendy was at his heel, and he turned around, shaking his head “no.” Wendy deflated and dragged her feet as she left and disappeared out the door.
Alfie turned back to the prince and cleared his throat.
The prince turned and gave him a superciliary once-over that immediately irritated Alfie. He gave the man a similar, dismissive once-over in return.
Tall, young, strong. Impeccable tailoring. Excellent shave.
He’d make a handsome husband for Bea.
